


From One Cat to Another

by SpaceKase



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: ...in a way...kinda, Cussing, Gen, Gwen Mom, Gwom - Freeform, but that remains to be seen, like...EXCESSIVE cussing, no archive warnings apply...YET, trigger warnings might pop up in the future; bewarned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 14:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13297233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceKase/pseuds/SpaceKase
Summary: What happens when an immovable object meets an unstoppable force? In this case, a lot of sarcasm, a lot of snark, a lot of salt, and way more understanding than anyone is comfortable admitting to.Or: times when Max and Gwen bonded, and why Gwen is the one Max asks for a big favor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as an experiment. Then I got ideas that spiralled out of my control for it; you all know how it is.
> 
> Max is my favorite Camp Camp character; Gwen is my second favorite. Gwen Gets a Job was kind of polarizing for a lot of people, but the big thing I took from it was 'I want to see these two interact one-on-one MORE.'
> 
> So here we are.
> 
> In retrospect, I'm really scared that this particular chapter is way too similar to Run Away Home, another, much better-written fic. But I've decided to post this, anyway, because I plan for this to go a completely different direction.

_Gwen had begun her wind-down, end-of-the-day ritual; it started with a shower, washing off the stress and frustration of yet another day of job searches. Typically, that would then lead to greasy chips, ice cream straight from the bucket, or some kind of alcoholic beverage—sometimes all three, if the day was particularly bad—while watching some mindless television show, or reading some trashy romance._

_This particular night, she’d nearly completed the shower when she heard her phone ring._

_Somewhat irked that she was cut off from this bit of pleasure a few minutes early, Gwen sighed and turned the water off, shivering at the feeling of faulty air conditioning on her skin. The fluffy towel was warm around her body, at least._

_She scowled at the phone in her now-dry hand. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?” she asked, determined to keep her voice civil, despite her bad mood. Had one of her job applications actually been looked at favorably? What if it was an interviewer? Screaming_ “What?” _at the person would be a good way to say ‘I don’t actually want this job, and also I suck.’_

_“Hey, Gwen. Uh…how’s it going?”_

_Gwen blinked. Her reflection in the mirror looked just as baffled as she did. “Max? What the Hell?”_

_"Your number’s on the Camp Campbell website.”_

_Admittedly, that was a good answer. Granted, it was to a question she’d planned on asking after several others. “Yeah, okay. Um…any particular reason why we’re talking right now?”_

_"Yeah, actually. Your apartment number’s 561 on the second floor, right?”_

_Gwen blinked again. “Yeah?” How the Hell would he know that? Why was he asking that?_

_"Awesome! I’ve been standing outside the right door.”_

_It took a moment for Gwen to connect the dots. Once she did, she let out the loudest “FUCK” she’d ever said in her life, threw on a bathrobe, and ran to her front door._

_Sure enough, there was Max, standing behind her flung open door._

_"What the actual_ fuck _, Max?” she cried. Of all the ways this otherwise ordinary day_ could _have gone, this was_ not _one Gwen had seen coming._

_To his credit, the boy actually looked a bit sheepish. “Hey. Long time no see, huh?”_

_A joke, obviously. She’d seen him just under a month ago._

_Gwen didn’t find it particularly funny. “You’re_ here!”

_Max rolled his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock.”_

_Gwen shook her head._ “How _are you here?_ Why _are you here?” There._ That _was what she’d meant to say._

 _“Both good questions. Really good.” Max looked at his feet. Hell…he was actually_ shuffling _them. “I got one, too…can I come in?”_

_Gwen blinked. “What?”_

_“Can I come in?”_

_It seemed to be testament to just how wrong things were that Max didn’t make some snarky comment about her current lapse in conversational skills. That was what made her dumbly nod and say “Yeah. Sure.”_

_Once inside her tiny apartment, the boy looked around, looking more lost than he had a second ago. Gwen rubbed the back of her neck, feeling more awkward than usual. “I’m gonna go get dressed, okay? I’ll be right out. In the meantime, uh…make yourself comfortable?”_

_Gwen really didn’t like sounding so unsure in front of people. She was used to it, of course, but that didn’t mean she_ liked _it._

_“Yeah, sure.” At least he sounded almost as unsure as she did. Thank God for small favors._

_She got dressed in sweat pants and an oversized t-shirt in record time, and returned to her living room/kitchen combo to find Max curled up on her couch. A little orange backpack was leaned against his side. “Huh. Weird, seeing you in, like…civilian clothing,” he said._

_Gwen noticed that Max wearing a cool green hoodie over a red t-shirt and brown cargo pants. He’d been considerate enough to take his shoes off near her doorway. Not that she cared what got tracked in; the carpet had been beyond saving when she’d moved in. Even so, she appreciated the gesture. “I could say the same about you.” She stood there awkwardly for a moment before asking “Can I, uh…get you anything?”_

_"Nah, I’m fine.”_

_"All right. Sure.” Another thickly tense moment passed before Gwen set herself at the other edge of the couch. “So.”_

_Max nodded. “So.”_

_Gwen took a deep breath. It calmed her a little more than she thought it would. “So, what are you doing here?”_

_Max pulled his legs up onto the couch and wrapped his arms around his knees. “I told David I wanted to send you a Halloween present. The idiot actually believed me; that's how I got your address.Then I took a bus.”_

_Gwen nodded slowly. “Oooookay…that explains ‘how.’ Now how about ‘why?’”_

_Max wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Shit’s bad at home. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”_

_Well. That answered even_ more _questions she’d had for a while. Not just_ why _he was in her apartment, but what kind of home life could possibly have led to making a kid like Max._

_That ‘Parents’ Day’ fiasco had given her an idea, but now she was sure._

"How _bad, exactly? Like, ‘I need to call Child Protective Services’ bad, or--?”_

_Max snorted. “You can try; you’re just gonna waste your time.”_

_’Scuse me?”_

_"You think you’re the first one to call them on my folks? Hell, you’re not even the_ third.”

_"Am I the second?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood. It was the sort of thing David would have done. And said._

God, _why couldn’t_ he _be here right now? He might have had his shortcomings, but he actually knew what he was doing when it came to kids. He was the one who actually_ liked _them._

_As was being proved now, if Max’s death glare was anything to go by. If she didn’t personally know him, she might have thought it was cute. “You’d be the fourth.” Christ, had it just gotten colder in her apartment?_

_Gwen winced. “Wow. Jeez.”_

_"They’re good liars. If they don’t lie well enough, then they’re rich, and that’s how they can get away with it.”_

_“Oh.” Well_ , shit, _then. “So then, you’re here to…?”_

 _"Just…had to get away. Just for the weekend.” It was here that Max looked up at her with huge, sparkling green eyes. “I’ll be gone Monday morning; if anyone asks, I won’t mention you. You don’t have to be seen with me…Hell, you_ shouldn’t _be seen with me. I can help clean up, and—”_

_"Okay, okay…Okay,” said Gwen, putting her hands up before running them through her hair. “This is, uh…kind of a lot to take in, Max. Tell you what, you can stay here for tonight, but we need to talk in the morning.”_

_Damn it all, why was he using those puppy dog eyes on_ her? _She wasn’t David! “…You won’t call anyone until after that?”_

 _Their staring contest felt like it lasted for half an hour before Gwen caved. “I won’t call anyone until after that. But Max, that’s, like…the only promise I_ can _make.”_

_Max nodded. “That’ll work.”_

_“Okay. Good enough.”_

_Another moment passed before Max looked at her DIY entertainment system. “Is that a Nintendo Switch?”_

_Gwen gave him a smile. “Sure is! My sister got it for me as a birthday present.”_

_"What games do you have for it?”_

_A moment later, Max had the makeshift controller in his hand as he made Link hit monsters with a skeleton arm on Gwen’s shitty TV. He seemed comfortable, so Gwen chanced another question. “Why_ my _place?” she asked._

_Max rolled his eyes. “Told you; had nowhere else to go.”_

_"Really? Between either of Neil or Nikki’s houses? Between there and…I don’t know, David’s cabin?” She’d seen David’s cabin in Sleepy Peak; it was beautiful. The other kids probably had decent houses, too. Right then, she couldn’t help feeling a little insecure about her own apartment; the living room and the kitchen were one and the same, there was only one tiny bathroom in the bedroom, and she was lucky if the thermostat worked. The carpet had been disgusting when she moved in, and no amount of vacuuming or scrubbing had done anything to fix it; it seemed to only have gotten worse, in the years she’d lived here. Hell, the ugly paisley wallpaper behind her couch was peeling right now, as she thought._

_Things_ had _to be horrible, if Max was really willing to spend a weekend_ here.

_Max paused his game and looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. “Really? You’re seriously asking me this? You…don’t realize…?”_

_Gwen was silent long enough for Max to decide that, apparently, she did not. He scoffed. “Never mind. Hey, I need to use the bathroom; next time I die, you wanna play?”_

_"Sure,” said Gwen. There were a lot of other, more important things to think about right now; she could shove that bit of confusion to the back of her mind, for now._

_\---_

The platypus didn’t complain much as Gwen dropped it on the counselor cabin’s floor. She might have felt worse about it, but at that particular moment in time, her lower abdomen felt like it was trying to eat itself. She collapsed on her bed with a groan, momentarily immobilized by the pain.

 _“Fuck everything,”_ she moaned into her pillow. Why hadn’t she thought to bring a heating pad with her?

She took a few deep breaths before shifting onto her back. David would give her a lecture later for getting her shoes on the Camp Campbell quilt, but right then, she didn’t care. She reached over to her night stand, grabbing two Midol and swallowing them dry.

The scuffling, plapping noise made her turn her head just the slightest. The brown-furred creature glared up at her from the floor. “Muack,” it said.

Between that, the memory of the Quartermaster being marched around on a throne held up by squirrels, and the distant sound of children chanting “Pussies! Pussies! Pussies!” outside, Gwen was incredibly tempted to just go back to sleep.

The logical voice in her head told her those were just the cramps talking. Honestly, the logical little voice in her head could shut the Hell up.

Deciding she could at least do _one_ small productive thing today, she reached over and grabbed her tablet. She opened Google and typed in “how to care for a platypus.”

One of the results on the first page was specifically about zoo keeping. Which made sense; platypuses hadn’t been domesticated by anyone, as far as Gwen knew. They were wild animals; not endangered, according to Wikipedia, but still protected in many areas, which made her wonder if keeping this thing as a camp mascot or a pet or whatever was even legal.

 Oh, well; the minute Gwen had started working here, she’d counted about ten different safety violations. The rest of the day, she walked in on no fewer than five different piles of smuggled goods, six different kinds of weapons, and an incredibly unsanitary kitchen. The founder of this place that David loved so much was obviously a criminal; he couldn’t say ‘Good Morning’ without lying twice. Constantly getting her name wrong was the very least of his wrong-doings, and _that_ was a microaggression she’d always hated.

Female platypuses could lay eggs and sweat milk, apparently. Meanwhile, the males had venomous spurs on their hind legs. Gwen hadn’t gotten a close enough look at the creature to see any spurs.

Hell, what was one more safety violation? If these kids didn’t die from eating the Quartermaster’s slop, Gwen was sure they could survive _anything._

Gwen learned more as she continued to search. Platypuses needed water. Obviously. They were carnivorous; they ate insects and various kinds of fish and shrimp. She, David, and the kids could probably find something it could get down; summer camps, especially cheap ones like this, tended to be crawling with bugs.

They were native to Australia, and _only_ to Australia.

How it had gotten _here,_ Gwen had no idea. Campbell was no doubt responsible. Somehow.

She made a few mental notes, then decided she’d earned a break. She opened the Kindle app on her tablet and browsed through her library before settling on what always sounded especially good when she was suffering through _that_ time of the month: the trashiest, most cliched romance stories and books she had.

Gwen became so engrossed in her guilty pleasure, she didn’t notice the sound of the window opening.

 _"There’s_ the platypus! The Pussies were wondering where it went.”

Gwen didn’t _shriek,_ thank you very much. She _yelped._ It was a completely different noise.

Her eyelid twitched as she glared at the source of the noise. There was Max, nonchalant as could be, hands in his pockets. _“What the shit?”_ she spat. “What are you doing in here?” It wasn’t a hard and fast rule that campers weren’t allowed in the counselors’ cabin, but it was still heavily encouraged that they stayed away. The ‘encouragement’ was mostly David’s doing; the ‘heavily’ was entirely _her_ doing.

Here, she’d actually thought it might have worked. That was definitely her bad.

“What? We were all wondering where our new mascot was.”

“Well, there it is,” said Gwen, gesturing to the creature now trying to dig a hole in the wooden floor.

“You’re not coming to dinner? The bell rang five minutes ago.”

Gwen glanced at the clock on her tablet. Max was right; it was five minutes past four PM. “Huh. How about that.”

“That’s why I’m here, so you know. David sent me over to make sure you were okay.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Because you care _so much_ about that, right?”

“Yeah. _So_ much.”

“I’m alive, and not getting up for the rest of the night. Tell ‘im that.”

“Fine.”

Gwen went back to reading her book. A few minutes passed; she thought Max had left. So she jumped when his voice popped up again. “What’s 'Lady Sickness?'”

If Gwen had been in a better mood, she might have given him a scientific lesson on puberty for vagina owners, or told him that he’d learn in Health Class soon enough. She _wanted_ to tell him it was none of his business, or tell him she’d turn into a werewolf later that night.

What actually came out of her mouth was “Your vagina bleeds for three to five days of the month.”

She kept reading, content to let the horror of what she’d just said sink into Max’s ten-year-old brain.

The kid laughed. “Wow, Jeez! No, _seriously.”_

Gwen turned her head, hoping to convey to the little smart ass just how serious she was with her expression.

Max’s smile vanished. “Wait… _really?”_

Gwen nodded. “Yep.”

“Whoa.” Max looked like his whole world view had just changed. “Jesus fucking Christ...”

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

“And it happens _every_ month?”

Gwen shrugged. “Yep. Unless you’re pregnant.”

“That’s actually kinda metal!”

Gwen managed to smile at that. “You think so? Most boys think it’s gross.” Hell, so did a lot of girls. _She_ thought it was gross, and _she_ was the one living with it right then.

“I mean. I guess? Kinda? Mostly it’s just cool that you can bleed for a week and not die.” Max’s eyebrows raised. “Shit, is _that_ where that South Park joke came from?”

Gwen was tempted to ask who the Hell was letting a ten-year-old watch South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut, but she’d be a hypocrite. She’d grown up on South Park, herself, as well as Grand Theft Auto. “Yep, that’s what that means.”

“So, _that’s_ what you’re going through, right now?”

“Yep.” It probably wasn’t terribly professional or appropriate that a ten-year-old now knew as much about her lady bits as he now did, but Hell; now he knew something about puberty.

“Does it, like…hurt? ‘Cause it sounds painful.”

“You have _no_ idea, kid. The whole lower region aches. Right now, I kinda wanna cut my lower stomach open and rip out my reproductive system.”

“Jeez. What do you _do_ about that?”

“To make sure you don’t bleed everywhere? Either shove a cotton stick up there, or put a diaper sticker thing in your panties. Or both. As for the pain…meds help. Anti-inflammatories like Advil, or drugs like Midol. Chocolate usually tastes pretty good, too, around that time. The darker, the better.”

“Huh. Okay.” The bobbing of dark curls out of the corner of Gwen’s eye told her that the boy had just nodded. The sound of tiny sneaker-clad feet on worn wooden flooring told her that Max had run off.

Gwen absently hoped he was right; that he was off to tell David about her. She doubted it; he’d gone out of his way to deliberately be a pain in everybody’s asses since the minute he stepped off the bus. But she could hope; maybe David would take pity on her and bring her some leftovers, after he’d put the kids to bed.

She was just letting herself get engrossed in her book again when the she heard the door open. It was Max again; Gwen knew before she even looked at him. David had a habit of doing everything loudly, including opening and closing doors. She’d tried talking to him about it before, but despite how he promised to work on it, he still made his presence known everywhere he went.

“What are you doing here _now?”_ asked Gwen. “If David’s got something to say to me, he can tell me, himself.”

Max shrugged. “David says he’s sorry and hopes you feel better soon.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, so then…?”

Max reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled something out, throwing it inelegantly onto her bed, near her feet. “Just, you know. Don’t want you to be any more of an asshole than you have to be.” He turned on his heel and called out “You owe me!” before he shut the door behind him.

Despite the pain she was in, Gwen managed to sit up.

A candy bar was nestled just in front of her boots.

Despite how shitty her day had been, Gwen smiled.

It wasn’t dark chocolate, but it _did_ help.

Just a little.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen ponders the upsides and downsides of the proposal Max gave her yesterday. Meanwhile, present-day, we see the aftermath of Max's stint at the hands of the Wood Scouts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the one hand, I wanted to wait for a while before posting another chapter. The logical part of my mind says that, for longer projects, it's good to have a buffer; to wait until you have a bunch of extra pages or chapters or what have you before you post even the first part.
> 
> On the other hand, I want recognition for the things I make.
> 
> Long story short...I have NO clue what the update schedule for this fic is going to be. So, uh...bear with me?

_He was still on her couch when she woke up._

_Gwen sighed. Well, there went her anxiety, spiking up this early in the morning._

_Coffee probably wasn’t a good idea, but screw it. Gwen was going to need all the energy she could get today._

_She took a deep breath as she glanced out the window. The light shining through it was soft and pale, dimmed by the thick clouds in the sky. The only sound in her apartment was the sound of coffee bubbling._

_It was interrupted when a car backfired nearby. Or maybe it was a gunshot; Gwen knew she should know the difference by now, having lived in this area for years, but Hell, she had other things on her mind right now._

_A slight scratching sounded at her window. The one that lead to the fire escape. Gwen glanced there, smiling at the sight of the fat cat clawing at the glass._

_“Hey, Cullen,” she said, opening the window and letting him in. The creature’s tiny bob tail flicked once in irritation, probably at being kept waiting. Gwen couldn’t help but smile; she’d always loved cats and their silly, persnickety little personalities. She set out a tiny tin of wet cat food she’d bought specifically for him. He rubbed against her leg before digging in._

_The slight sound of fabric shifting drew Gwen’s attention to her TV area. Max had sat up, and was now rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His already wild black hair was now even more wild, due to sleep._

_Despite herself, Gwen had to admit that he looked kind of cute that way. “Mornin’, Champ,” she called._

_Max gazed at her, bleary-eyed. Fresh from sleep, he looked a lot less grumpy than usual. “That coffee I smell?” he asked._

_“Sure is. It’s not ready yet, but it will be soon.”_

_Max stretched before he got up. Gwen smiled; he’d always reminded her of a cat. A hateful, angry, violent kitten, specifically._

_He kept rubbing his eyes as he stepped into her kitchen, seeming to get more awake as he looked at Cullen. “Hey, you didn’t say you had a cat!” he exclaimed._

_Gwen smiled as she got out a frying pan. “He’s not actually mine; his stupid owners let him roam around. He just climbs up my fire escape sometimes, and I feed him.”_

_Max kneeled next to the creature. “Hey there!” he cooed, in an incredibly un-Max-like way. He placed a hand in front of Cullen’s nose. The cat’s tiny pink nose sniffed at it before he returned to his food. Max gently scratched down the cat’s spine until his hand reached just above his tail. Gwen watched in amazement as Cullen’s butt went up. He’d started purring._

_"Huh. How about that?” she said to herself._

_Max smiled up at her. “He’s friendly. Does he have a name?”_

_Gwen shrugged. “Probably, but I don’t know it. I call him Cullen.”_

_Max’s smile turned into a smirk. “Like ‘_ Edward _Cullen?’” he asked._

_“The red spots on his fur are almost the same color as his hair, okay? Give me a break!” exclaimed Gwen._

_Max snickered. “You are_ such _a loser, you know that?”_

 _Gwen rolled her eyes. “Big words coming from_ you  _and your nerdy friends_ _, Smart Ass.”_

 _"Yeah, whatever.” He stood back up and shifted back to his default stance; slightly leaned back and hands in his hoodie pocket, the very picture of “I don’t care.” Like Gwen believed_ that _for a second._

_She frowned at the sight. Max was wearing the same clothes he’d come here in. “Did you sleep in that?” she asked._

_Max shrugged. “Didn’t have room for pajamas.”_

_"Wait here for a moment,” said Gwen. She rushed to her bedroom and dug through her closet. She came back with an oversized Spongebob Squarepants t-shirt and a set of gym shorts that were too small for her, but probably just big enough for a ten-year-old boy._

_Max snickered at the sight of the shirt. “Shut up,” said Gwen. “It was a gag gift from my sister last Christmas.” An extraordinarily comfortable one, at that._

_"Your sister gets you a lot of presents, huh? Do you actually own anything yourself?”_

_It was too early for Max to bust her chops like this, so she gave him what he wanted and said “Nope. I own nothing, not even myself,” before shoving the clothing into his hands. “If you’re gonna stay another night, you need proper PJs.”_

_Rather than make another dig at the Spongebob shirt, Max nodded. “Oh. Okay. So you’re gonna let me stay here?”_

_Gwen sighed. “Yeah; guess so. Just stay out of sight, okay? There’s probably an AMBER Alert out on you.”_

_Max scoffed. “Doubt it, but okay.”_

_Right then, the coffee maker beeped. Gwen got out two mugs and filled them up: black for Max, and a dash of cream for her._

_"So, uh…breakfast?” asked Gwen._

_Max peered up at her from his black sludge. “Whadya have?” he asked._

_Gwen glanced through her fridge. “Ketchup, Tabasco, leftover mac and cheese…eggs. How about a mac and cheese omelet? You ever have one?”_

_"No, but that sounds kind of tasty.”_

_She grinned at him. “It’s even better than it sounds. Trust me.”_

_Gwen found that it was kind of nice, cooking something for someone else. She slid the omelet onto a plate and handed it to Max before starting on her own._

_"Holy shit, this is_ amazing!”

 _Gwen smiled. This was probably the first time she’d heard Max give a compliment. Not just to_ her _, but in general. “Didn’t I tell ya?”_

 _"Man,_ you _should be the chef at Camp Campbell!”_

 _Gwen laughed at that. “I’ve thought about it, but the Quartermaster’s, like…weirdly protective of that job.” She frowned at the memory of the Quartermaster shoving his hook hand into the doorway in front of her to prevent her from entering the kitchen. “Like…_ really _weirdly protective. I didn’t want to make him angrier.”_

_“That’s fair.”_

_The morning passed, oddly calm and almost domestic._

 

The afternoon featured Nikki, Neil, and Max being flown onto the campgrounds by a giant eagle. Nikki’s nose was bleeding, Neil had blush and lip gloss on, and Max was covered in bruises, cuts, rope burns, _actual_ burns, and was sporting a black eye.

In short, it was a pretty normal day at Camp Campbell.

David cooed and fretted over all of them. He’d been worried sick about them being missing; Gwen had been enjoying the peace and quiet.

She had to admit, though, even _she_ was taken aback by the state poor Max was in. It had taken coaxing, threatening, and a little bit of bribing to get Max to remove his hoodie and his t-shirt so she and David could treat all his wounds. Out of the three children, Max was the one David fawned over the most, much to the boy’s annoyance.

Gwen didn’t fully understand _why_ David was so fond of the little fucker, but she supposed if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be David.

Oddly enough, the various wounds Max was covered in didn’t seem to concern him nearly as much as the state of his hoodie.

“Aw, _man,”_ he groaned as he held the thing in his hands. A hole had been torn in the back; apparently he’d been stabbed there with a spit-sharpened candy cane. Gwen had grimaced at that; _that_ was an infection waiting to happen. “That piece of shit…If I ever see him again, I’m kicking him in the balls.”

David went to comfort him over it, but Gwen stopped him. “I think I can fix it,” she said.

Max blinked up at her. “Really?” He frowned. “Why?”

Gwen shrugged. “You said I owed you; here I am. Paying you back. C’mon, Kid,” she said, heading towards the mess hall. That was where most of the supplies for the activities were, including the sewing materials.

 _Why_ that was a camp, Gwen had no idea; keeping sharp objects like needles and scissors near these little gremlins seemed like a horrible idea to her. But so long as the materials were there, she could use them.

She sat on the counter as she worked, while Max watched. “So, you know how to sew, _and_ you clean up after us all the time?” Gwen heard the smirk in his voice. “Maybe you should live out in the woods, getting cute little woodland creatures to do your bidding, Snow White.”

Gwen didn’t bat an eyelid. “One: Belle is my favorite Disney princess, so jot _that_ down. Two: if I _had_ that ability, don’t you think I’d have used it by now?”

“Good point. Maybe it’s Nikki I’m thinking of.”

“Eh…Nikki screams ‘Grizzly Adams’ to me, not ‘Disney Princess.’”

“True; she’d probably die if she had to put on a dress.”

“Yeah; probably.” Gwen smiled at the mental image of Nikki sticking her tongue out in disgust while wearing a frilly pink dress.

Silence passed before Max spoke again. “Did you know Nikki used to be a Flower Scout?”

Gwen stopped what she was doing, holding the needle up in the air. “No way. For real?”

“Yep. Neil told me about it when they picked me up. While the Wood Scouts were torturing me, he and Nikki wound up with the Flower Scouts. I guess they ran her out ‘cause she was too tomboyish.”

Gwen winced. “Ouch. _That_ sucks.” She could see it clearly, in her mind’s eye; Nikki, in a cute little Flower Scout uniform, running and crying while prissy, snooty girls pointed and laughed or turned their noses up in disgust.

“Yeah. It’s really shitty. They had _Nikki_ with them; they should’ve been _grateful.”_

Gwen smiled, despite herself. Max _did_ care about his friends; he _was_ capable of caring about people other than himself. Who knew? “That’s preteen-to-teen girls for ya, Kid. The most vicious creatures in the world.”

“I mean…I don’t wanna say you’re _wrong,_ but…” Gwen glanced up just in time to see Max gingerly touch his shiner.

“Good point; those Wood Scouts are like…an entire camp of Nurfs.”

Max scoffed. “Please; even Nurf’s not _that_ much of an asshole. You don’t know how much I wanted to punch Pikeman in his smug, zit-covered face…”

“Hey now, go easy. That’s gonna happen to _you_ some day. Probably sooner than you think.”

Max’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Aw _, sick!_ Another reason to die young.”

If it were David here, he might have been horrified to hear that. As it stood, though, it was Gwen, instead. “I hear that; puberty sucks ass,” she said with a smile. She tied the thread before cutting it. “All right; there you go, good as new. Well, almost.” The thread that matched the hoodie’s fabric the most was black, and it was still pretty damn noticeable.

Max actually smiled. “Sweet! You don’t suck as much as I thought!”

Gwen lifted the thing up just as he reached for it, pulling it just out of his reach. “You know, I think there’s _still_ time for me to embroider ‘Hug Me’ on this,” she said.

Max raised an eyebrow at her. “’Hug me?’ Seriously?”

Gwen grinned wickedly. “Just think about it! What would happen if the other kids saw you wearing it? Like Nurf?”

Max shrugged. “Eh.”

A devious plan planted itself in Gwen’s mind. “Oh? And what about David? What if _he_ saw you in it? Oh, he would just _die!_ He might even be compelled to do what the hoodie told him to do!”

Max blinked up at her. Then he blinked up at her again. A glare slowly made its way onto his thin eyebrows. “You _wouldn’t._ ” His voice was dangerously low.

Gwen smiled a smile that was just as dangerous. “You wanna try me, Little Man?” she asked.

Max’s glare could have frozen fire. “I fucking hate you,” he told her.

She smiled sweetly at him. “Yeah, yeah; I don’t like you either, Asshole.” With that, she handed the hoodie to Max, who ran off without another word.

All in all, it was just another day at Camp Campbell. Gwen supposed she was finally getting used to it.


End file.
